From the Crow’s Nest
by CLINT YOUNTS
Hot enough for ya? Yep, it’s gonna be a hot one again today. What’s it been, something like 40 days and 40 nights without a drop of rain and temperatures in triple digits? What I’ve been hearing from some rather bored TV weathermen is the odds of significant rainfall are like a snowball’s chance in Terlingua. And the worst news is that summer’s just begun.
I’m not happy about the weather pattern of scorching days and muggy nights, but on the other hand, I’m not complaining much neither. Sure, I’m having to buy hay to feed my cows year-round, but think of the money I save on fuel for not having to mow my pastures. For the first time in years, I didn’t have to mow down dead wildflowers. Those fields of pink and purple flowers have been replaced by barren wastelands scattered with granite-hard cow patties. The only color Maw has in her flower beds these days is brown. I may toss in some red cedar mulch just to add contrast.
This heat and drought hasn’t caused me to start looking for work in the Rockies or Pacific Northwest. I’ve lived here long enough to know that heat waves, like a tasty bran muffin, will eventually pass. It may take a while, but if you wait it out, we will eventually be back outside, sitting on the front porch enjoying a cool breeze, passing out candy to trick-or-treaters. So relax and have another tall glass of iced tea. Summer is only three months long and autumn will be here soon. And if we are lucky, a hurricane will come our way and pour some rain into our dust bowl.
I kinda feel sorry (not really) for all those transplanted Californians who are accustom to luke-warm summers and the only temperatures in triple digits coming from their ovens. These folks have no idea what’s in store for them this summer when it gets really hot. So, being a hospitable host in this here Lone Star State, I have compiled a list of ways to know when a Texas summer has officially arrived. Some of you native Texans may have experienced some of these phenomena, but newcomers won’t understand what I’m talking about until it happens to them. So let’s get the word out. Before they unpack their badminton sets or buy wrought-iron patio furniture, warn these pilgrims that South Texas is as close to Purgatory as you can get without a one-way ticket.
You know it’s summertime in Texas when…
• Hot water now comes out of both taps.
• You learn that a seat belt buckle makes a darn good branding iron.
• You can make sun tea instantly.
• The best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.
• You finally have that hot tub you’ve been wanting, but unfortunately it is your cows’ water trough.
• The trees are whistling for the dogs.
• The birds have to use potholders to pull worms out of the ground.
• You discover you can get sunburned through your car window.
• Your biggest bicycle wreck fear is, “What if I get knocked out and end up lying on the pavement and cook to death?”
• The term “huevos rancheros” is also a medical diagnosis.
• The soles of your new running shoes melt walking across the Payless store’s parking lot.
• Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying boiled eggs.
• Pigs no longer stink but smell like fresh bacon in a frying pan.
• The only puddles on the ground are the product of too much beer and weak bladders.
• Hot coffee is no longer appealing to you on Sunday mornings, no matter how bad your hangover is.
• Being “hot and bothered” has nothing to do with romance.
• The temperature drops below 95 and you look for a jacket.
• The potatoes cook underground, so all you have to do is pull one out and add butter, salt and pepper.
• A frozen strawberry daiquiri turns into a warm glass of Kool-Aid moments after stepping outside.
• Vaqueros put their drawers in the freezer at night so they won’t have huevos rancheros the next day.
• You see Willie Nelson entering a barber shop.
I hope this list prepares all the newcomers to our fine state. I’m not sure they can handle temperatures in triple digits and lawns resembling the Mojave Desert. I do hope their stay here is short, but enjoyable. We do have terrific weather here in Texas between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but normally our summer stretches from March to October, sandwiched between two weeks of autumn-like weather and a short spring. And let’s not forget those two or three days of winter that we get once a year. Brr!
I wonder if Davy Crockett fully understood that when he told fellow congressmen that they could all go to hell and he would go to Texas, he would be living in the hotter of the two places. Here’s a little saying that my mother used to say that may apply to some of you out there: If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. In other words, it’s gonna be hot here in Texas so quit your complaining.
